


Watching

by AnnabethTheUnicorn



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Blood, Bruises, Dipper blames himself, M/M, Normy gets hurt a lot, Poor Norman, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabethTheUnicorn/pseuds/AnnabethTheUnicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norman’s been knocked down a couple times in his life. Punched more times than he can count, for any number of reasons. He doesn’t punch back. He never punches back. Not unless the thing trying to hit him isn’t human. (And even then, rarely.) He’s been punched, yes.</p><p>But never like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knocked Down

**Author's Note:**

> SSParapines gift for Callonielb on Tumblr.

Norman’s been knocked down a couple times in his life. Punched more times than he can count, for any number of reasons. He doesn’t punch back. He never punches back. Not unless the thing trying to hit him isn’t human. (And even then, rarely.) He’s been punched, yes.

But never like this.

“Norman.” Dipper’s voice is getting more and more desperate in his ear with each blow. “Norman, fight back!”

He’s not sure quite why these punches hurt so much worse but he’s between two, many three ideas. 

The next crash of knuckles against his cheek sends him to the floor. The force is enough to send his teeth clattering into the inside of his cheek, opening up yet another cut in his mouth. The whole left side of his face is on fire. He spits some blood from his matching pair of split lips.

“Norman, fight back!”

The first idea is that the man throwing the punches isn’t holding back in the slightest. That his one and only objective in this moment is to beat Norman to a nice, squishy, medium pulp.

A violent kick to his side throws him onto his back. He feels something snap and hopes that nothing broke as a moan escapes him. White hot agony shoots up and down his side. 

“Norman! Norman, please!” The voice echoes around the room frantically.

The second idea is that maybe possessed people are stronger somehow if the ghost controlling them is particularly angry. Oh, that’s actually not a bad idea. He could write about that for one of his parapsychology classes. “The Poltergeist Effect in Possession.” There’s even a little alliteration in there. Professor Scott’s always been a sucker for alliteration in essay titles.

That thought is cut off by another blow, a foot coming down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Norman!” Dipper’s voice is near sobs now, begging. “Fight back, tie me up, do anything! Please!” The spirit of his boyfriend is floating eye-level with Norman’s head, flattening himself to the floor to beg right into his face. Those brown eyes - once-brown eyes - are currently glowing green like the rest of him, the ghostly aura so unfamiliar and so horrible on the face Norman loves so much. 

A hand jerks him up and pulls him roughly to his feet, forcing him to stare into the pitch-black eye sockets of the thing possessing Dipper. 

That’s his third idea. That all this hurts so much solely because all this pain is being inflicted by those hands that previously had only provided gentle touches, comfort, love. Dipper’s hands, which he had always loved so much, were now being used for pain. 

“Please, please, don’t let him- me- whatever hurt you anymore. Norman, are you even listening to me? Norman, please!”

His whole body aches, but he stares forcefully into those shiny black eyes. That stupid smirk. 

He spits more blood out of his mouth and attempts to speak for what must be the dozenth time. “You d-don’t have to… to do this.”

And for what must be the dozenth time, there’s no verbal response. But this time instead of another blow, the bloody-knuckled hand closes around his windpipe. That seems extreme. He could have just told Norman to shut up.

He can hear Dipper’s voice - Dipper’s spirit - screaming, now. Until he can’t hear it anymore. Until his hearing starts to go as blank as his vision as the little oxygen left in his lungs drains away.

Fades away.

Like everything else.


	2. Picked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper had never heard a more beautiful cough in his life. He held Norman close as a pained moan escaped his bloodied lips.

Dipper knew from the second the angry spirit pushed him out of his body. He knew exactly what the thing wanted. Something about sharing a conscious mind for the .2 seconds it took for him to shove Dipper out gave him clarity in that area. The spirit - nameless as far as Dipper was concerned - wanted to hurt. So it delved right down into the depths of Dipper’s mind and pulled out his most terrifying memories, his worst nightmares, and used them to piece together how to bring about Dipper’s worst fear.

So he watched, completely powerless. It made him watch. Just watch as his fragile Norman was beaten within an inch of his life.

And then...

Norman wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled to one side.

Dipper screamed to nothingness as the thing in his body dropped his boyfriend to the floor like he was nothing. 

And he continued to scream as he hurled himself towards his body, towards that complete asshole in his body. He wanted to hurt him back, he wanted to destroy him. He wanted the thing to hurt as bad as it’d hurt Norman. 

(A tiny voice reminded him that revenge isn’t what Norman would want, is never what Norman would want, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care!)

All at once he fell to his knees in his own body, spitting ectoplasm from his mouth and wiping it away. It was too easy, no fight whatsoever. 

And no satisfaction.

The only reason Dipper was back in his own body was because the spirit had decided it was done beating and wailing on Dipper’s everything.

He wanted to sob. Wanted to punch something. Wanted to fight back after what that fucker did to-

“Norman!” He scrambled up and sprinted to his boyfriend’s side, sinking to his knees as he delicately lifted Norman’s bruised head from the ground where he’d been tossed. “Norman? Norman, t-talk to me, tell me you’re okay…”

No response. Not even a twitch. And he looked just wretched, his left eye swollen shut already and blood leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Was he…? No. No, he… He couldn’t be. Dipper’s vision blurred with tears as he pulled the limp, bloody body to his chest, trying to be careful but in his distress not as careful as he usually might’ve been. There was so much blood. Everywhere. Dipper felt sick. 

“N-no. No, you-you’re okay. You’ve gotta be okay, please, just… Please, Norman…”

Suddenly, as if he was heard, Norman coughed. Dipper had never heard a more beautiful cough in his life. He held Norman close as a pained moan escaped his bloodied lips.

“Oh my god… Norman, I- I’m so sorry!” The tears spilled over, dripping down Dipper’s face to land against the bloody mess that is Norman’s face. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay…”

“D-Dip…” Norman’s voice was raw and painful-sounding, and the word quickly gave way to more coughs. Coughs that - to Dipper’s horror - sent a splatter of blood down the medium’s chin.

He pulled him upright to cough up against Dipper’s chest, the sound no longer beautiful as it wracked through Norman’s lungs. “Oh god. Oh my god, oh no, no no no, I- We have to get you to a hospital, h-have to get you help! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I-” His voice broke. 

Norman’s voice came out weakly between coughs and wretched-sounding breaths. “N-no hospital…”

Dipper felt like sobbing. “You’re hurt!” One of his hands trailed over Norman’s bruised side with a feather-light touch. “Wha-What if I broke your rib or- or punctured your lung?!”

“Y-your knuckles…” The words are barely audible. “Th-they’ll think it was you.” More coughs. More blood. Dipper felt more tears stream down his face. How much blood could he lose?

“I don’t care!” He couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore. “You need help!”

“You could get arrested…” Those blue eyes, staring up at him so full of pain, desperation. Dipper couldn’t take those eyes. He never could, let alone now, with Norman so bloodied and bruised and fragile. “Please, don’t…”

He shook his head, frantically, his hands trembling as they held Norman close. “If you’re bleeding internally you’ll- You’ll die. I n-need to- Y-you need to- Please, let me help you, let me fix this!”

“Shhh…” Dipper stared dumbstruck as Norman’s thumb trailed back and forth over his hand, as if he was trying to comfort Dipper. “S’okay… S’gonna be…” Horror shot through Dipper’s heart as Norman’s head dipped to one side, exhausted. 

“No!” He cradled Norman’s head in one hand and pulled him close so their faces were inches apart. God, his face was just wrecked. It crushed Dipper’s heart. “St-stay with me, please, you're gonna be okay, just let me…” He could see the consciousness - the life - draining from those blue eyes as Norman tried desperately to stay awake. 

“S’okay…”

“No, it’s not!” Dipper sobed. “It’s all my fault.” His head dropped so he was crying right up against Norman’s face. Close enough that he could see him fading fast. “I-I have to get you out of here. I have to get you help...” But he couldn’t make his legs move. If he couldn’t do it soon he’d have to call an ambulance. He’d get him help whether or not Norman wanted it. He refused to be responsible for his death. 

Norman’s hand found its way to the top of Dipper’s but almost immediately went limp, slipping away. “S’not your fault… D-don’t blame yourself.” Dipper could feel him starting to collapse and shifted him closer to support the rest of his weight.

“Shhh… Don’t talk, just… Just breathe, okay? B-breathe for me…” He managed to relax slightly when Norman compiled, and Dipper ran a so-gentle hand over his face, trying to wipe away some of the blood. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the skin beneath all that blood. Purple and mangled and raw. It made him sick. It was the worst Dipper had seen Norman. Worse than that time he fell down the stairs. Worse than when Bill had tormented him. And Dipper could still feel his knuckles throb from having done it to him. His hands fumbled for his phone and he started to dial when Norman’s hand reached up again, stilling his fingers over the screen.

“D-Dipper…” Dipper looked back to that mangled face. “W-we were attacked. N’you p-punched the guy who hurt me. Okay?”

His face crumbled. Even hurt so bad, Norman was still trying to protect him. It made his whole heart shatter, and sobbed as he gave the operator Norman’s lie. An ambulance was coming. He was going to be okay. He had to be okay. 

“Dipper, y-you… you couldn’a stopped it…”

Dipper just held him close, babbling softly into his ear. “Shhh. Help will be here s-soon, just- just hold on. Save your strength.”

Blood dribbled out the corner of Norman’s mouth as he spoke again. “D-Dip, m’sorry…”

“Norman, no. D-don’t you dare apologize. Just… Just be okay. Please.”

He watched, feeling just as powerless as he did a few minutes ago, as his boyfriend tried to speak again and was rewarded with a bloody cough. A sob escaped Dipper’s mouth and he couldn’t even manage to hush him. 

A too-weak, trembling hand found Dipper’s again, as if the touch could stop his tears. Dipper sobbed out his name once more, clinging to that hand. Norman’s lips parted again.

“S… sorry.” And his eyes closed, his hand went slack. Dipper was watching - that seemed to be a recurring theme tonight - as he faded away.

Quickly, before Norman couldn’t hear him, he whispered. “Don’t be…”

Just before he went utterly limp, Norman murmured something that Dipper didn’t hear. But he had a few guesses as to what it was.

Dipper hunched over his slack form, managing to mumble between sobs and screams. “I love you, too.”


	3. Put Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper thanked just about every deity he knew of that it wasn’t quite as bad as it looked. That said, it was still pretty bad. A cracked rib and a very cut-up mouth. And a whole slew of bruises up and down his body. But all things considered, he was immensely grateful. (Especially because they let him take Norman home. A night in the hospital would’ve only made everything worse for his poor medium boyfriend.) But that didn’t quite quench the crippling guilt that weighed on his heart like a cinderblock.

Dipper thanked just about every deity he knew of that it wasn’t quite as bad as it looked. That said, it was still pretty bad. A cracked rib and a very cut-up mouth. And a whole slew of bruises up and down his body. But all things considered, he was immensely grateful. (Especially because they let him take Norman home. A night in the hospital would’ve only made everything worse for his poor medium boyfriend.) But that didn’t quite quench the crippling guilt that weighed on his heart like a cinderblock.

Norman was awake when they left the hospital, but given the incredibly strong pain medication the doctor had him on, Dipper was not surprised that it didn’t last. By the time they pulled up to their apartment he was out like a light in the passenger seat. 

Dipper had carried him cautiously inside and bundled him up securely in their bed before ordering some non-hospital food and settling in to run a hand through that spiky hair and watch Norman’s thin chest rise and fall. (He knew the rib was only cracked and his lung wasn’t punctured, but he just had to be sure he was breathing okay.) 

The food arrived quickly and a little more time passed before those blue eyes start to flutter open.

Dipper breathed a soft sigh and kissed his bruised cheek with a feather-light brush of lips. “Hey. Got you noodles.”

Norman’s voice was still scratchy from all the coughing. “Noodles?” He rubbed at his good eye and glanced around. “When did we get home?”

“You fell asleep in the car, those drugs are pretty strong.” He slid a gentle hand beneath Norman’s spine. “Hold on, I’m gonna sit you up, okay?” Norman nodded and he helped him into sitting position, very slowly to make sure the movement wouldn’t irritate his hurt rib.

“You didn’t have to carry me, Dip.” Norman murmured as Dipper retrieved the delivery. “Could’ve woken me up.”

He just handed Norman the carton and a fork. “You needed the rest.”

Norman gratefully took the food and slurped up some noodles, looking at Dipper with those big blue eyes. He knew something was up, Dipper could tell. Did he have to be so goddamn smart? “Are you okay?”

Dipper paused. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“But you’re not…” Because of my hands, he thought. 

“But I will be…” That same searching look. “Dipper… It isn’t your fault.”

It was like a broken dam. “I- I could’ve done something! Anything to stop it! To protect you! I could’ve…”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Dipper did know that. The only reason Norman was ever able to force a possessing ghost out was because it was one of the perks of being a medium. Dipper knew he was human. It didn’t make him feel any better. He sighed heavily. “At least it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been… I was so afraid you were bleeding internally, but it was mostly from your mouth.”

Norman nodded. “Kept dripping down my throat.”

“I… I know… They had to suck some out of your lungs at the emergency room.” Dipper had watched that part. It was an image would haunt him for a while. 

Norman looked so sympathetic, like Dipper was the one who’d had a tube stuck down his throat. “I’m sorry you had to, um…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” He reached over to run a hand down his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

Norman’s eyes darted to the side and he gasped and took the hand on his cheek in both of his own, the noodles sitting forgotten in his lap. “Your hand!” 

What about it? Dipper glanced at the hand caught between Norman’s thin fingers. It was mildly bruised and the knuckles were scabbed over. It did nothing to ease his guilt. “It’s fine. It doesn't hurt that bad.”

“That bad?!”

“Norman, you cracked a rib. Don’t worry about my hand.”

Norman didn’t release his hand from that tender grasp, instead bringing it to his lips to give each of the scabbed knuckles a tiny, feather-light kiss. “It looks so bruised.”

His expression softens a little with those kisses. He can’t help it, Norman is so good. “Yeah, but… so do you.”

Norman locked eyes with him and offered a small smile. “I guess… we’ll both have to heal?” 

Dipper couldn’t help but to smile back. “...I guess we do.” He used his other hand to lift the noodles from Normans lap and offer them to him again. “Now please eat?” 

He watched as Norman took the noodles and slurped up another bite, giving him this little lopsided smile - even under all those bruises it was still cute enough to make his heart flip-flop. “I love you, Dip.”

And Dipper thought that, maybe, sometimes, just watching wasn’t all that bad.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
